Short Pasty Poems

Reasoning

‘My reasoning is
pasty-faced,’ I 
remark.

...

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Mermaid’s green pasty
black Caviar is tasty.....
shark was too hasty...

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some salty Norfolk samphire
cheddar cheese on toast
Cornish pasty with gravy
Melton Mowbray pie
A Kendal Mint cake
Scrumpy jug
Aye!...

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Turnips are delicious,
Turmeric is tasty:
Tartlets are officious,
Truffles make for hasty
Toss-ups. It seems vicious,
Turbot served in pasty
Titbits. It’s pernicious!
...

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I've often been called a wee bit spacey
Not Kevin you twits, I'm a different daisy
March to my own beat
Not the norm but still sweet
Spacey I'll accept but more like pasty...

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Eyeball soup.  Wonderfully tasting.
Deliciously made, sweet and pasty.
Cinnamon-seasoned, also some thyme.
Vegetable laden, scrumptious and fine.
Fisheyes are best, but goats are good too.
Nothing sooths me like warm eyeball soup....

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I like the full English
When it comes to breakfast
Something substantial
For a satisfaction that will last
None of that continental rubbish
All foreign and nasty
And what’s the deal with a croissant
It’s nothing but an empty pasty...

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I wont entertain these stillborn
Ideas with a bandanna and a cross
I wont bargain for insurance
While fake servants roam the floor
There's no love on my tongue
For pasty, plastic American dripping dreams
The thief of the garage
Stole my conscience...

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Soon as the sun behind the hills sinks
The mist loses no chance
It creeps, 
Stealthy,
 Like a hushed assembly of white ghosts

Then the air gets damp and chilly
The blue hills become hazy
And the air,
 Once sheer
 Is now pale grey and pasty....

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Pasty delicacy
demands protection
since succulent
taunts beasts
roaming wilderness
gripped by hunger

until revelation
pivots the victim
aggressive arguing
defensive while
harnessing feral
hungers unwieldy

with megatons
securing leverage
against savage
hidden wandering
enemies disguised
behind amity....

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Sprang from the earth
And all its salty meadows
Down with the dirt
And hearty bellows

Drunken fighting and pride
A warriors code to abide 
We singing fellows
Shipping out to new day

Setting off to make a way
With hands outreached 
Pasty colors and golden red
Tumbling, tossing, gripping 
Here to make our stay...

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Standing there
Arms outstretched
The haggard pasty washed up
Kewpie doll
Of a soon to be ex
Awaited his oxytocin fix

As the dutiful wench
Swallowed the stench
Of his distillery fermented fat
She thought 

This puts the retch in wretched

And that was that
A good sense of humour
Is only embraced so far



5.31.2020...

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America is Lazy.
We sit on computers inside.
We are fat and pasty.

We complain about our problems,
But we do nothing to fix them.
“How can we fix this?”, People ask.
Just work hard and you can accomplish any task.

Nothing will ever be achieved,
From this Lazy American lifestyle.
Hard work is what we need,
To be on successful for a while....

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Pale and pasty, my face.
Disappearing into stripes - regaling no stance.
Gone - no trace.

Red hair…freckles.
Please, won’t someone ask me to dance?
…heckles.

Heart’s weak…
Is there no chance?!
Speak!

Pale and pasty, my face.
Please, won’t someone ask me to dance?
Speak!


4/9/2022
Let's Minichu on zero
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani...

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Daddy went out to do some fishing,
And he caught himself a pike.
He put it in a basket,
And brought it home upon his bike.
He threw it in a frying pan,
With a little pad of butter.
Dusted it with salt and pepper,
And we had it for our supper.
Daddy said he couldn't cook,
And yet the pike was rather tasty.
When dear mother cooks the fish,
It turns out rather pasty....

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An empty canvas on display
 alabaster slivers streaked pittings
  bleached pasty pearl incised matte
waiting;
 monochromatic fragments pale
  chaotic free flow rigid yet confined
released in inspirations somber
 light and dark
  contained insipidness
sketching life nightmare and dream fantasies.





For Ironic Zink's poetry contest on Life Poetry 9/12/19...

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A sky’s pasty pallet, 
thickly stroked
with a heavy brush,
lends pale shadows
to the earth below
while a filament  
of a memory
improves the dreariness
with joyous rays

Soon to follow
comes the rain
as the clouds lessen
their laden load
and the day brightens
as remembrances lighten
and sorrow steams away
on the pavement 
of a renewing heart

© Debra Squyres...

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Whenever you strive to arrive at
What you're asked or tasked to do
You should yearn to learn perfection
Or you'll have a hasty stew

Concentration application 
Assures you aren't bereft
It's most unwanted to be daunted 
For what's right by what is left

Don't worry about the clock
Just revise and then regroup
Turn your pasty hasty stew into
A delightful poetry soup!...

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She has spotty skin

Whereas he has warts on his 

He has freckles

She has boils

One's too oily

One's too dry

He is too pasty

Her's is too dark

She is too yellow

One's is patchy

The others too red

Yet for all of these many differences

There is one thing they all have in common

Is we are 1 and all

Universally unhappy in our own

Skin , within and without...

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Flowers wilt, there is no breeze
   Leaves droop, they're not pleased
Grass turns a sickly brown
   There's a heat wave in town

Faces are taut
   Greetings, coerced
Skin's pasty white
   Every movement, coerced

Dogs pant on the pavement
   Tongues hanging out
Your arthritis is worse
   And so is your gout

Feel like ending it all?
   ~ Here comes a cold front
         A Taste of Fall!...

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Palm trees and ocean breeze heavenly received by this pasty white 
northern teen. On the drive to grandma's snowbird roost she points 
out a black family; "they must be renters, blacks are only here during
the week to work".


            road to Disneyworld
lined with tin and waste wood shacks

        short of dreams come true




7.9.2020

A Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier...

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The young starlet is sacrificed.
She is stark naked on a 20 foot
crucifix.
Piss streams
run down her thighs
and the wood.
Nails thick as cigarette lighters
are pounded through the bone.
Blood seeps to the surface
and stains her pasty, chalky skin.
Once vital hair
drapes down
over a low head.

Ecstatic apes,
also naked,
ranging in all ages, from the youngest
to the senior,
dance a mad dance in a circle
around the crucified dame
in a ceremony of grounding....

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Earwigs from the radio chew past wax to my brain.
Shush shush shush of wipers, 
the pasty wheeze of wet cold road cannot distract. 
So, my resolve sways left than right, drawing 
low back muscles tight, with each argument 
breath comes harder. Fists wave as fingers point. 
Suited, polished, brass balled men rise between 
the road and my eyes,
wail of perfected lies through perfect teeth bring down 
barrier after barrier as I am swallowed
in the wide slow maw of death’s valley....

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